"It was merry in the glowing morn Among the gleaming grass To wander as we wandered many a mile. And watch the cool tobacco smoke in white wreaths as it passed Sitting loosely in the saddle all the while. T'was merry in the blackwoods When we spied the station roofs To wheel the wild scrub cattle at the yard. With a running fire of stockwhips And a firey run of hoofs The hardest day was never then too hard."
To E. & W. Hall,
With best wishes & kindest memories from
Given to H.M. Wilson by Gwen Hutchison. Wm. Byron was my godfather & was killed in the 1914–18 war. 1979.